You’ve Got Mail wouldn’t be made today. Why? We’re all cowards
In this column, we deliver hot (and cold) takes on pop culture, judging whether a subject is overrated or underrated.
By Lauren Ironmonger
If 1998’s You’ve Got Mail was made today, it would be a very different film. Putting aside the fact it would probably be a straight-to-Netflix release with the incredibly charming Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan replaced by two robotic, heavily Botoxed actors, the trajectory of its characters’ digital dalliance would be derailed by one key thing: the unsend message feature.
In recent times, our digital overlords have caved in to the whims of cowards, introducing a slew of features that render our communication impermanent. In 2017, messaging services Telegram and WhatsApp brought in functions that allowed users to unsend messages. In 2019, Apple followed suit, then Instagram.
Given the trend, I’m certain the modern-day version of the AOL chatroom in You’ve Got Mail would have allowed messages to be unsent. Imagine Hanks’ Joe Fox, tentatively asking Ryan’s Kathleen Kelly to meet in person. Would he have stuck to his guns and resisted deleting it in a moment of self-doubt? Unlikely. Sure, the laws of romcoms would dictate that Kathleen and Joe be brought together eventually, but You’ve Got Mail would be a much longer film.
As children, the utterance “no takebacks” is sacred. But something seems to happen between then and adulthood as we all become soft and gutless, reneging on our word without a thought. Aren’t we taught as children to think before we speak?
Recently, we had the perfect example of not thinking things through, when former South Korean president Yoon Suk Yeol rescinded martial law after mere hours, announcing the news on live television at 10.30pm. One must wonder what might have happened had he just slept on it.
In today’s world of rapid-fire communication, it’s easy to speak first, think later. But we’d all benefit from taking a beat before hitting that send button. The ability to take back a message with the click of a button only encourages this rash behaviour. I propose we think first, write a carefully worded message, check for grammar and punctuation and maybe add an exclamation mark for good measure.
Barring this, whatever happened to a good old “oops! wrong person” message after inadvertently sending “Hi mum, mind picking up that rash cream?” to your boss? There’s humour to be found in admitting to a slip of the tongue (or thumb).
For a nosy Nellie like me, another suite of features has contributed to the rise of digital cowardice: private likes. In 2019, Instagram removed its activity feed, which allowed users to see what people they followed were liking and commenting on. More recently, X, formerly Twitter, made likes private.
In doing so, they have barred us from one of the greatest joys of social media: harmless snooping. For example, why did Stacey’s boyfriend Chad just like a bikini photo of Erin from five years ago? Is their relationship on the rocks? Is he really the sleazebag we all thought he was? Or why has your 60-year-old co-worker liked every single Tweet ever written by media personality Trisha Paytas, even the weird slightly problematic ones? It’s all fun fodder for some good old-fashioned (harmless) gossip.
When Luigi Mangione, 26, was revealed as the alleged United Healthcare chief executive shooter in early December, social media users were quick to dig into his digital footprint, unearthing everything from his Goodreads account to his birth chart. Whatever your views on Mangione’s actions, this behaviour speaks volumes about our twisted impulse to make sense of people after shocking acts of violence – now easier than ever with the trail of digital debris most of us leave behind. But one thing will always remain a mystery: his Twitter likes.
There’s also a rich legacy of politicians slipping up on social media, such as the time US senator (and satirically alleged Zodiac Killer) Ted Cruz liked a pornographic video on Twitter, blaming the mishap on a member of his staff (way to throw your employee under the bus, Ted). The incident was worsened by its timing – coinciding with the anniversary of the September 11 attacks – not to mention the fact that a decade earlier, Cruz had lobbied for the banning of all sex toys. Musk’s hidden likes have stolen this from us.
I am not anti-privacy. Quite the opposite. But these features only give us the illusion of control – the feeling that they can save us from the most embarrassing, or clumsy, or cruel parts of ourselves when really, only we can do that. Worse still, they give us a false sense of comfort, when it’s the companies and people who own these platforms, among them Meta and Elon Musk, we should be worried about. An unsent message may disappear from our devices, but this doesn’t erase them from the companies’ data storage.
I got sober earlier this year and like many people have sent my fair share of embarrassing messages. And yes, call me a hypocrite – I’ve been guilty of hitting the unsend button.
But would the ability to unsend a poorly thought out 2am text have saved me from a red face the next day? Perhaps. But only in the short term. Like a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, such a feature would have done little to stop the slow bleed of addiction into my life. At risk of sounding like a new-age wellness guru, I’m learning in sobriety how to live with and learn from regret, and to forgive myself for the past. Every day is a chance to do better, and think before I act.
Today, when it’s easier than ever to cower behind our screens, I think we need to be more earnest and honest with one another, not less. So I’ll leave you with the words of our wise cultural vanguard Ariana Grande, who put it best when she sang in Yes, And, “Say that shit with your chest.” No takebacks.
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